The True Break
by Boudicca's Revolt
Summary: What really spurred the infamous nose breaking at Ariana's funeral? Here's a small, little vignette about Albus' turning point.


Disclaimer: JK Rowling owns everything.

There was a crash from upstairs. Aberforth looked up, wiping his nose with the back of his hand. Could it be? Could it be that _perfect _Albus was showing some emotion? He wandered upstairs and peered into his elder brother's room. Albus was on the floor next to his overturned desk; that must have been what caused the crash. "Albus?" Aberforth ventured tentatively, crossing the sacred threshold. Albus looked up, tears streaking his face, his lip quivering. He looked so much younger than seventeen.

"You shouldn't be in here Aberforth," he said, his voice shaking uncontrollably. He pulled himself up and flicked his wand at the desk which immediately righted itself. Aberforth swallowed hard but stood his ground. Maybe they could finally set things right; perhaps he had been too hasty; there had been so many curses floating around that day . . .

"It's okay to miss her you know; I do all the time," Aberforth stated quietly, looking down at his shoes.

"What?" Albus asked, startled.

"It's okay to miss . . . Ariana." The bewildered look on Albus' face vanished and was replaced by a closed expression.

"Right," he said quietly. "I do miss her, thank you."

"Albus," Aberforth began, taking a step forward. There was a crunching sound as his shoe collided with glass. He picked up his foot and looked down, a picture frame. He picked it up, shaking off shards of glass. "Why do you have a picture of this monster?" he asked in a deadly whisper.

"He's not a monster he was my-"

"Your friend? The one who killed your little sister is your friend?" Aberforth exclaimed.

"He was more than a friend," Albus said more to himself than to Aberforth.

"What is that supposed to mean?" Aberforth shrieked, throwing the picture viciously against the wall. "Your sister is dead and you're crying over HIM? Where is your heart? Are you glad she's gone now so you can go on your crusade? "For the greater good?" Is that what this is? Did Ariana die for the bloody greater good?"

Albus' eyes flashed angrily behind his glasses. "You'll do well to shut your mouth and refrain from talking about things about which you know nothing."

"I know a fair bit more than you think older brother. Don't you miss her? Am I her only mourner?"

"You know I loved her."

"You had a nasty way of showing it, sleeping with her murder. Yes Albus, I know all about your little midnight rendezvous. The walls are thin Albus. Don't worry, I won't tell anyone. I know that's what you're worried about," he spat. He shot him one last nasty look before storming out of the room.

The next day was the funeral, the infamous day. Years later, people would muse that Aberforth had been driven mad by his little sister's death. Poor boy, but so lucky to have such a strong older brother, they would remark. Albus, heart broken irreparably, had welcomed the physical pain, had enjoyed the feeling of the bones in his nose shattering, the painful throb that took his mind off of Gellert and Ariana.

He'd wanted to scream, to cry out to the little biddies whose sympathy was smothering him with guilt. He wanted to tell them that _he _wasn't brave or strong. It was all _his _fault. He wanted them to punish him, to make him suffer as Ariana had suffered. He wanted to erase the summer, erase Gellert, erase their plans, erase, erase, erase. He wanted the part of his heart that still ached for the feel of long, strong arms around him, and soft lips caressing his to explode . . . Why had he allowed his heart to cloud his head? Why had he let his common sense give way to his urges?

But it had been so easy, in the beginning. It had been so easy to imagine a life with him forever; he had seen it stretched out before them, an endless stream of fame, fortune, kisses, caresses, sex . . . It had been so easy to lose his head and now he had lost everything, even the brother who was still there. There was no one to comfort him, to make it better and there never would be. He vowed then that he would never allow himself to be compromised again. He had proven that he was not to be trusted with power or love. Yes, most of all, he could not be trusted with love. He wasn't strong or whole, he was a broken coward.

He walked away from the teeming throng of people. Elphias, dear Elphias had pulled Aberforth aside and was allowing the boy to cry into his robes. Albus couldn't do anything for Aberforth anymore. He walked to a somewhat secluded place and, for the last time in a long time, he allowed himself to cry, to sob, to fall apart. He sunk to the ground, pressing his fists painfully into his eyes, ignoring the throbbing pain that was shooting through his nose. He cried for his mother and father. He cried for Ariana. He cried for Aberforth. He cried for Gellert . . . he cried for himself. He cried until he didn't have any tears left and his body was too tired to move. He fell asleep, waking only at the gentle nudging of his former best friend.

"Come on Albie. Let me take you to my place. The headmaster has taken Aberforth back to Hogwarts until term begins." Elphias extended his hand and Albus took it, wiping away the dried tears. He followed his friend out into the glittering sunlight; nothing would ever be the same.

A/N: Depressing right? Well, anyway, PLEASE REVIEW!!!


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